Of Yeast and Other Things
by The Luna Complex
Summary: James finds out the hard way that some people are just a little less evolved than others.


**Disclaimer: Only the insanity is mine. Only the insanity.**

**Dedication: Andi for being so incredibly adorable yesterday when she didn't want to go home.**

Muggle Studies is boring.

Muggle Studies competes with _History of Magic_ for boringness. Come on, now. That's saying something.

Now, one must be wondering, if Muggle Studies is so boring, why am I taking the class?

The answer would be quite obvious to anyone who knows me.

Lily Evans is taking that class.

Why is Lily Evans taking that class when she's obviously muggle-born?

The world may never know.

Would you like to know _why_ Muggle Studies is so incredibly boring right now?

We're learning about _yeast_.

Who wants to learn about yeast?

Yeast is a mold. No one cares about mold. Just like no one cares about flobberworms. (I'm sending a glare in the general direction of the Care of Magical Creatures class going on outside.)

"Class is dismissed."

Finally.

I don't really care that I'm leaving the classroom with absolutely no knowledge on yeast what so ever. As long as I don't have to do an essay on it, I'm good.

"Interesting lesson today, eh Potter?"

That _voice_.

It's the voice of an angel. I swear it.

"Er, Potter?"

I must not turn around and face the voice of my wonderful hallucination.

I know from experience that if I do, it'll go away.

So I continue standing stock-still in the middle of the corridor, staring at the wall opposite me.

"Potter? Are you alright?"

Oh, Merlin's beard. I'm seeing green... literally. Green eyes.

I stare at my breathtaking hallucination and wait for it to disappear. Evanesce. Evaporate. Fade away slowly.

But it doesn't.

Could it be, that by some happy mistake of the gods, Lily Evans, _the_ Lily Evans is talking... to me? James Potter?

"Potter!"

Suddenly there's a burning sensation across my face. Ow.

Definitely not a hallucination.

"What's crackin', Lily, my love?"

She looks like she wants to hurt me again. Tread carefully, Potter. You have a Quidditch game in two days. You can't afford to be in the hospital wing.

"So, Potter." Her voice sounds strained. She's definitely trying to exercise some self-control by not hexing me into oblivion.

"Good Head Girl."

"What?"

I didn't say _anything_ out loud! I don't know what you're talking about! See this face? It is the _epitome_ of innocence.

I tell her this.

She shakes her head in exasperation and continues her thought.

"_Interesting_ lesson today, wasn't it, Potter?"

She knows I wasn't paying attention. I changed my mind. Bad Head Girl, bad!

This time I really _didn't_ say anything out loud... not that I did before!

"I thought it was kind of boring, actually."

"You don't find it _interesting_ that we're possibly descended from yeast?"

I definitely missed that part of the lesson.

"_What?_"

She smirks. I know that she knows that I know that she knows I wasn't paying attention. I hope she doesn't know that.

"It's obvious that _some_ people are more... closely related than others."

She says this with a certain drawl in her voice.

It's times like these I wonder why I like her.

I suddenly remember why as she walks away and I get a nice view of her rear end.

**(-o.o)- -(o.o)- -(o.o-)**

"Padfoooot!"

I know I'm whining. I don't care anymore.

"Prongs, for the last time, I don't _care_."

"But, Padfoot, doesn't it bother you that we're possibly descended from yeast? _Mold?_"

He looks surprised for a moment. Hah, I _knew_ he wasn't listening to me.

He smirks.

Damn that smirk. It's everywhere.

"Nah, man, I'm down with it. Yeast makes bread rise. I make... _other things_ rise. We're not really all that different if you think about it."

I gape openly at my friend.

Lily was right.

Some people are a _bit_ further down the evolution chain than others.

**A/N: Don't ask. I was trying my hardest not to either a) drop my camera onto the hard, rocky sidewalk, or b) drop my**_**self**_** onto the hard, rocky sidewalk when this idea struck me. In other words, I was taking pictures in a tree. Leave a review, even if it's to refer to me to the nearest mental hospital. Flames will be used to make bread rise.**


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